Too Human
by runsongasoline
Summary: They expected her to be so human. They wanted her to conform, while erasing her identity. She didn't want to assimilate. He figured he could help.
1. Shoes

"I will go nude." Lavellan hissed, violet eyes narrowed threatening.

"You cannot!" Josie said in shock, head in her hands. "You are impossible, Inquisitor!"

Lavellan made a sound akin to a hiss. "Then no dress." She snapped, silver hair falling across her face, free of the braid she typically confined it in.

Leliana was stoic as normal but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. Cullen was decidedly looking everywhere except at Lavellan, doing a terrible job of hiding his smirk.

" _Fine_!" Josephine threw her hands up, rolling her brown eyes. "No dress! No heels! But you will wear the replacement, and you will wear shoes!" Her voice grew so sharp Cullen flinched, gold eyes wide in surprise at the tone the Ambassador took.

Lavellan smiled smugly, and shrugged. "I can deal with that."

"As long as you aren't nude, for Maker's sake! Really, Inquisitor, it is not befitting-"

Lavellan cut her off. "I am aware. I'm not a noble, though, Josie. I'm Dalish." She motioned to the pale blue Vallaslin on her face, representive of June, as if her Advisors may have forgotten.

"You are _also_ the Inquisitor, so it is up to you to learn!" Josephine argued, tan face flushed darker.

"I wear clothes! I'm learning the chant!"

"The Dalish don't even walk around nude, you just don't like clothes!"

"I'm doing what I _fucking_ can!" Lavellan's voice rose, and Cullen stepped forward between the women. Before they ate each other alive. He was fairly certain these women were more frightening than any Apostate, any darkspawn. Maybe Corypheus himself. Josie was proper and stubborn, and Lavellan was far from proper and potentially more stubborn.

"Maker's breath, ladies, calm down." Cullen said. "We are going to the ball, we will all survive. You-" He turned his burning gaze to Lavellan. "Play the Game as Lady Montilyet says, Inquisitor. I don't want to either. It _is_ just a night."

Lavellan cast her eyes to the ground, chewing her lip as she pondered it before heaving a sigh. "Fine." She growled, running a hand through already tousled hair. It gave her a wild look about her, and Cullen couldn't help but admire such a thing... for some reason.

"I better get drinks after this, though," She added, before turning on her heel and stalking off. Josephine looked at the Inquisitor's bare feet with disdain.

Leliana laughed. "Josephine, you need to breathe." She said softly, hand on her friend's arm.

"She will be the death of me." Josephine grumbled.


	2. Twirls

One day before the damned ball and Josephine informs her she must learn to dance. _To dance_! Like a human noble. Lavellan was not quite thrilled at this... but didn't really have a choice.

So she decided to make the advisors suffer with her.

"Commander?"

The blonde looked over at Lavellan. "Yes?"

"Be my partner?"

His face turned red and eyes averted from hers. He laughed nervously. "W-well, I, particularly, uh.. dislike dancing."

"I don't even know _how to dance._ Come on. Teach the savage." She said sweetly, her grin wicked. Cullen heaved a sigh.

"Alright, Inquisitor."

She's pretty sure that's where it started.

It's not like she was overly fond of humans- but this one was... quite nice. He was soft and warm as they danced, and he literally swept her off her feet. Plus, so _pretty_. The scar on his lip was interesting, and she studied it for a moment, feet stumbling.

" _Inquisitor_!" Josie snapped. Her patience was running thin. Lavellan felt her face heat up, mumbling an apology. She got back into step and Cullen swept her along. He smelled like wind and metal polish, and his stubble was newly shaved yet not smooth. She fell into step easily as he lead.

Then he dipped her, unexpectedly. She squeaked, automatically grasping him by his armor desperately in an attempt not to fall.

Which happened to make her fall.

On her ass.

In front of everyone in the room.

Playing off the embarrassment, Lavellan scrambled to her feet and took a dramatic bow. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the Herald of Andraste!" She announced with a flourish.

Cullen nearly fell over from laughing so hard and so unexpectedly, and Leliana giggled behind her hand. Lavellan wondered if Josie was going to explode, but instead, she was doubled over in laughter. Or... maybe crying. Lavellan wasn't too sure, really. It could go either way.

After everyone gathered themselves, she and the shemlen went through the routine twice more, Lavellan quickly catching how to properly dance and twirl and how to accept a dip as well. Her feet were light on the ground, albeit clumsier in fancy shoes. By the end, Lavellan was grinning ear to ear.

"Thank you, Inquisitor." Josephine said, her voice relieved.

"You are most welcome, Lady Montilyet." Lavellan responded with a bow. But her eyes glinted with mischief.

Josie shook her head.

"The ball is tomorrow. For Maker's sake, be prepared. Who are you bringing with you?"

"I figured Solas, Cole and Sera."

Josephine blanched. "Inquisitor... wouldn't it be more _befitting_ to, er, bring those more versed in The Game? Vivienne and Cassandra, for instance? I know Cassandra detests it, but she is well aware of the ins and outs."

Lavellan shook her head. "Cole can make people forget. Sera is a Red Jenny. I just want to see Solas uncomfortable." She said, grin spreading again.

"Oh, Maker... this will be fun." Cullen chuckled. "Don't let her drink too much."

"I can drink there?" Lavellan's excitement was obvious. "Oh Mythal, _yesss_!"

Josephine glared at Cullen.

This would be quite the adventure.


	3. Dances

Oh, if only Josephine had known what an _interesting_ night they would be having.

The party was fascinating. The masks were mildly unsettling. The whispers about her being Dalish, though, made her want to Chain Lightning those damned shemlen nobles out of Thedas. A strong hand on her shoulder made Lavellan swing around but it was The Iron Bull standing there, not the enemy.

"Let 'em talk, Boss. Orlesians live for gossip and bullshit." He said reassuringly. Lavellan shrugged and conceded with a hand motion. Bull passed her a glass of something that smelled of fruit and Embrium, but tasted so dry.

"You're right, Bull." She said, taking a measured breath and then another swig of the Orlesian Wine. Luckily, she did not wear a dress. Unluckily, she was wearing some awful suit that all advisors and her team wore as well. Wine, though, made it easier.

Then came the weird part where everyone was named- Nightingale, Former Knight-Commander, yadda yadda... and then... "...Mai Balzytch of Kourse..."

Lavellan snorted and tried to hide her amusement, glancing around for a furiously giggling Sera, then over at an absolutely mortified Josephine.

"...her elven man-servant..." Lavellan looked at Solas, his face void of any definable emotion. Biting back her laugh was so _hard_ and she made a mental note to talk to the apostate about that later. Oh, _racism_.

The night continued at a fairly slow creep. Lavellan slipped around, speaking with her people, playing The Game with the nobility as if she had played it her entire life. She danced with Duchess Florianne- and from the reception of said dance, Lavellan figured it had to be decently impressive.

She did get chastised by some Orlesian noble for jumping over a table, though. _Apparently_ Orlesians did not take well to _not_ trodding like their pretty shoes were semi-stuck in mud.

Her advisors and team seemed oddly comfortable. Leliana just wanted to chat about shoes. Of all things. She met Josephine's sister, a girl with wild eyes and a dress, who looked like Josephine but with impulse written all over her. Sera was keeping an ear on the servants. Bull was drunk. Already. And had found himself a few admirers who definitely wanted to bed the Qunari.

She could not find Cole. Possibly for the best, all things considered. She did hope he wasn't too uncomfortable.

A drunken Solas leaned against a wall, watching everything intently. Far more comfortable than she ever would have imagined. She only knew he was drunk due to his informing her as such. He knew she was drunk because of her ridiculous grin and the glass in her hand.

Coming upon Cullen made Lavellan start giggling furiously again. He looked so collected in the face of danger and death but for the love of Mythal, no one should throw that poor man to the sharks as they did. The shemlen looked terrified, yet his admirers seemed ignorant to his discomfort. He was fending off requests to dance _and_ marriage requests furiously- as well as declining any drinks being handed to him. Probably not a terrible idea. She slipped through his small crowd fluidly, leaning against the man with a playful grin. He jumped, muscles tensing, before relaxing as he looked down to see a silver braid.

"Care to dance, Commander?" Lavellan asked.

"No." The answer was so quick and so forceful that Lavellan stopped short, muttering an apology. Embarrassed, the man backtracked. "Not- oh, Maker- I didn't mean..." He sighed. "It's nearly a default answer."

"You are particularly popular, aren't you, Commander?" Lavellan teased. "Even in this _awful_ suit, they all surround you. You sure you wouldn't care for a dance? You are the one who taught me, technically."

Cullen dragged a hand through his hair. "I'm not too sure, Inquisitor." He said, but a smile curled his lips nonetheless.

The night stopped droning on so horribly long somewhere between the murder of elvhen servants, Briala and her spies, and the attempted assassination. Lavellan got the adventure of "defending the Empress and killing shit while drunk", which _had_ to be some sort of an achievement. She helped set Briala up to pull some strings with Empress Celene, solidifying a chance for stepping closer to equality between elves and humans. In Orlais, at least. Maybe even reuniting a couple. And meeting Morrigan- _that_ shemlen was intense, wild... knowledgeable. And stunning.

And then she stained up her shoes.

The Orlesians loved it all, and loved her by the end of the evening. Casual racism still abound, naturally. She was passed around for dances with nobles throughout the remainder of the evening, many offering drinks she had never heard of. One Nobleman offered Antivan Sip Sip- and Josephine nearly fainted before snatching it from the Inquisitor, hissing "no!" furiously.

Imported Dwarven ale tasted like piss, and Lavellan steered clear after a swig offered by a chortling Iron Bull.

The night began to wind down, the servants who weren't murdered slowly beginning to clean up. Lavellan's world was spinning but she felt great after the adventure and all the drinks. She wandered out on to a balcony, watching the night sky, when footsteps behind her made her spin around, anchor flaring to life in one hand and veilfire spitting in the other. As she saw Cullen, she relaxed.

"Hello, Commander." Lavellan said with a smile.

"Inquisitor." He nodded, then held his hand out. "Would you, er... like t-to, uhm, dance?"

A smile. "Only if I can take these shoes off for it."

"Of course, My Lady." Cullen said with a mock bow. Lavellan peeled her shoes and socks off, laughing, before grasping the shemlen, staring up at him with eyes glazed with alcohol. She still moved fluidly though, body against his, hyperaware of how he felt without the armor. He was sturdy and just as warm, and she found herself wondering what he tasted like.

He dipped her, and she squeaked in surprise but kept her composure. As their dance ended, Lavellan wrapped her arms around the Commander's neck, their faces mere inches apart.

"Inqui- _Lavellan_..." His voice held a warning that Lavellan desperately wanted to ignore as the gap between them closed and then she was kissing him. The alcohol made her less nervous, less worried. He tasted faintly of ale- he must have had a bit to drink after all- and a little of just... himself. His arms held her hips, and a small whimper escaped her throat.

"Maker's breath..." He said as they parted, hands still holding her. She bit her lower lip, meeting his stare.

"-she should be right over here, My Lady, I-" A hurried voice interrupted the couple, both heads swinging in the direction of the noise. A servant looked hurried, Celene striding behind him. Lavellan narrowed her eyes, anchor burning, as it had a tendency to do when she was stressed. Cullen heaved a sigh. Couldn't even have a _moment_.

Celene quickly started to drone on about Orlais' next steps and their solidified alliance with the Inquisition. Lavellan listened... or tried to. She wondered if a hangover would greet her in the morning.


	4. Touches

Naturally things had gotten so awfully busy immediately following the ball. _Naturally_.

Lavellan felt run thin between working with her Advisors to run the Inquisition and oh, you know, saving the world. In the name of a shemlen god that she herself didn't even follow. As a mage. It would take a toll on anyone, eventually.

So after weeks of going without pause, Lavellan and her team had finally reached Skyhold once again- with a few days to spare. Supposedly. _Hopefully_.

To celebrate, Lavellan joined The Iron Bull and the Chargers for drinks in the early part of the night. No one said the Herald _couldn't_ drink like a fish, right? So sometimes, she did. Why not? She earned those damn drinks.

Until it was Maker knows what time and the sound of Iron Bull's laughter was waking her up.

"How long has she been here?" Lavellan heard.

"She tapped out eeeearly."

"You just let her black out on the floor? The _Inquisitor_?"

Both voices were familiar, albeit fuzzy. She shook her head slowly, sitting up and gasping at how rapidly the world began to spin. Oh.

"Ahh! Boss! There you are!" Bull said as Lavellan looked around, bleary eyed. "Told you she's fine. Handles drink well, for an elf."

"I am the Herald, damn right I handle drink well!" Lavellan declared, then giggled, looking around to see what was holding her- _oh_.

"Commander!" She said with a grin. "Why are you here?" There was a pause, and her eyes grew wide. " _Fenhedis_! Did something happen?" Lavellan cursed, trying to stand up despite Cullen's grip on her.

"No, no, Inquisitor, it's alright. Really. No one had heard from you or seen you since your return. I happened to be the one who found you, passed out drunk." The words rushed from him, but he didn't stammer. She relaxed into his grasp.

"Oh. I'm good, do not worry about me." Lavellan laughed. "I just... _ah_! Forgot the war table appointment!"

Cullen nodded. "We have it all taken care of, just trying to be sure the Inquisitor is alright."

"Aw, you care about me." Lavellan giggled, face flushed from either laughter, drink, or both.

"Inquisitor, I-"

" _Shhh_. Cullen, just shhh. Can you help me to my quarters, Bull? I'm not sure I can make it all the way..." She went to stand, stumbling as she did so. Bull caught the giggly Dalish woman, and looked at the ex-Templar.

"Ya got her?" He asked. Cullen affirmed with a nod, and put one of Lavellan's arms around his shoulder to help walk her to her quarters... which proved to be _quite_ the task. She was not the most agreeable drunk. Or maybe she was too agreeable. Everything was some adventure. Even the blasted rats needed a greeting from the Inquisitor. Maker's breath, she was going to be the death of him as well as Josie at this rate.

But as she grinned at him, cheeks rosy and chatting away, he couldn't help but appreciate her. Drunk or not, few could take on such an immense task.

And to think a decade ago, he would have killed her without blinking, given the Apostate thing she had going on.

The pang of regret hit him hard and fast and he almost buckled under the sudden emotional pressure. He had no right to be close to Lavellan for his past actions. He had been a monster. Maybe he still was, somewhere inside.

The Inquisitor grasped his arm as she stumbled along with him. "Thank you." She said, swatting hair out of her eyes. Lavellan's voice was a bit more clear, the cool air helping in sobering her up as they walked. "I know I'm probably all over the place right now."

"I've seen worse, Inquisitor." He chuckled warmly. "Have you seen Lady Josephine when she's had a little too much?"

"No, I haven't, but now I kind of want to. It's Lavellan, by the way. The shemlen formalities are so bizarre." She glanced at him, paler than her and just so pretty.

And safe.

He seemed safe.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, Commander."

He pushed the heavy door open in front of them, guiding her through Solas' room with a hasty apology and up through the throne room, to her quarters. She chatted away about everything and nothing as they walked, throwing Cullen off with her drunken openness. He walked Lavellan up her stairs, all too aware that Solas' eyes had been trained heavily on the two of them. Lavellan hugged Cullen tightly, and without warning.

"Thank you again." She said quietly.

Then he found himself kissing her, again, guilt gnawing at him while desire curled in his stomach for her. For Lavellan. Maker, he was in trouble.

But she was so soft, so needy, so _lovely_.


	5. Sleeping

"What do you mean, she won't wake up?" Cullen roared, causing the scouts standing with the Inquisitor's team to flinch.

"It was a sleeping spell." Solas spoke up. "An incredibly powerful one, at that."

"Can you...undo it?" Josephine asked.

"Not as of now- I have tried, but I may be able to look into the Fade for more answers. I tried to find the Inquisitor already in my dreams... but could not." He responded, met with nods of approval and looks of concern and unease.

It slipped no one's notice that Cullen was particularly distraught.

She lay on her bed, sleeping so deeply and breathing so shallowly that it was hard to tell she was breathing at all. When Bull carried her into Skyhold, he thought she was dead. It had clawed at his heart like the Desire demons did back at the Circle in Ferelden, torturing him with how much he adored the Hero. Maybe it hurt _worse_ than that.

He brushed some hair from her face tenderly, running his thumb across her cheek. At the moment, he couldn't care any less if they saw.

"What if you don't find answers?" He asked Solas.

"It is blood magic with the boost of Red Lyrium. Blood magic is... difficult to undo, as you would well know of."

"Well, find a way." Cullen snapped, his heart dropping.

"It may not be that easy." Solas said through gritted teeth, eyes flashing. "But I shall _try_." Voice dripping with venom, he cast a long look at the Dalish woman on her bed, then turned to look Cullen, grey eyes narrowed.

"Fine." Cullen responded, before turning to the Inquisitor and gingerly taking her shoes off, as she preferred. He could feel the Apostate's gaze burning his back.

"Wow, Commander, how... _polite_ of you." Josephine said, giggling behind her hand. "You have become quite fond of Lady Lavellan, have you not?"

"That's of no concern right now." He growled roughly. "We need her to take on Corypheus or we are all in trouble. Lave- er, the Inquisitor-" Cullen corrected himself. "...is irreplaceable. We must do what we can, or the Inquisition- and all of Thedas- falls."

Solas remained in the room until everyone but Cullen had left. After a few moments of silence, something in the apostate's gaze changed, the look chilling the man. Cullen felt anger grab at his chest as he met Solas' gaze evenly.

"You used to be a Templar. You have killed people like her- _us_ \- for nothing other than magic. You cannot make up for such heinous crimes." He stated it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, nonchalant yet unsettling. Cullen was larger than the Apostate, but something was _odd_ about him... and it wasn't just the weird wolf jaw necklace he wore.

"Things change." The Commander muttered.

"You can't take back murder." Solas shot back.

"It... I... by the Maker, what is your issue, _elf_?" He snarled in exasperation. Solas remained silent, arms crossed, and shook his head slowly. He turned and left the Inquisitor's quarters with no further word, steps inaudible even against the stone floor.

Cullen felt cold.


	6. Desire

Everything hurt and nothing hurt.

What an odd feeling.

Somehow... _familiar_?

She looked around, yet nothing seemed out of place. What was it that felt so... off? So strange? Her brain felt veiled im a thick fog. She noted that she was barefoot. Her hair was braided and pinned. Her clothes were so soft and so... traditional. _Dalish_ , the Inquisitor realised with a start.

She wiggled dirty toes, a grin creeping on her face. It felt so _nice_ to have her toes in the dirt.

"Lavellan." A warm voice made her head snap up, green eyes searching the area before resting on a familiar face.

"Cullen!" She said, relieved. He swept her into a fierce hug, to her surprise, but she sank against him.

" _Do not-_ " The second voice was sharper. "Fall for that, Inquisitor. That is a demon." Lavellan turned her head to see Solas walking up, silent as ever.

"What do you mean, a demon? Because he's human?" She was taken aback.

"He just wants to tear us apart. He's jealous." Cullen said, narrowing his eyes.

"Jealous? But..." That seemed very unlike Cullen. Panic squeezed at her heart very suddenly.

"Lavellan, you know far better than this. This is a demon. I have been searching the Fade for you for days, now." He frowned, studying the scene before him. 'Cullen' was growing irritated, eyes flashing a strange pale red before morphing into their normal molten gold.

"Lavellan, my love, you must know that isn't true." Cullen sounded more desperate, the icy claws in her heart grabbing tighter.

Lavellan shook her head vigorously. A demon? No- he couldn't be. Could Solas truly be lying due to jealousy? Solas, of all people... That seemed more unlikely.

"Is this not real at all, Solas?" She asked, her voice nowhere near as steady as she hoped. The panic was creeping in at the edges, leaving her voice frayed.

He took a few steps forward, steely eyes trained on Cullen warily. "You are in the Fade." Solas repeatedly sternly. "Blood magic put you to sleep and we have been unable to wake you. You must let go of this demon."

"Solas, I-"

"Now, Inquisitor!" Solas roared in warning.

A strangled snarl ripped from Cullen's throat before Lavellan could react. His hands snaked around her waist, pulling her tightly against him, fingers digging into her skin. The elvhen woman cried out in shock. She could feel his skin warping and bubbling around her, his frame seeming to shrink. Cullen began to laugh, Cullen's laugh, but the pitch grew higher gradually. A woman's laugh. No. A demon's laugh.

Lavellan began to struggle ferociously. A Desire Demon. _Fenhedis_ , she cursed internally. A bolt of electricity snapped past her head, slamming into the demon and throwing Lavellan to freedom. She landed on the ground, catching herself with her arms braced outwards. The Inquisitor had no staff here, but made do with her hands, joining Solas in the fight against the demon that was gripping her so hard for so...long, apparently.

Solas stunned the demon, sending it stumbling backwards. Lavellan followed the other elf, breathing freezing air from her hands, slamming into the demon with force.

It laughed again, the sound closer to hysterics.

"I almost had you!" The desire demon declared. "So desperate for love, you'll turn to a human!" She taunted. Lavellan's lips curled into a sneer.

"That is not-" Lavellan started, Solas cutting her off.

"Do not bother to explain yourself. It will just twist it." He said, staff slamming into the ground as a great Stone Fist smashed into the demon from the earth, eliciting a loud screech. He looked at the Inquisitor. "Anchor- now!"

She held her hand in front of her, green light bursting forth with a crackling noise. A small Fade Rift pulled at the desire demon from Lavellan's hand, drawing the demon closer. It fought against her, and Solas threw flames in the demon's direction. It collapsed to the ground, an unnerving screech erupting from its' body as it dissolved into a green puff, being devoured by the anchor.

Solas immediately relaxed, turning his gaze to the Inquisitor.

"Wake up." He said, voice harsh and commanding.

Lavellan sat bolt upright in her bed, breathing heavily, skin clammy.

"You're awake." The warm voice made her jump, and she turned to face Cullen.

"Are you... real?" She asked, color draining from her face. The Dalish woman understood the Fade, but abominations and demons were taught a bit... differently to the Dalish. She had never had an experience like that.

"What? Of course." The blonde man seemed a bit miffed, looking at Lavellan curiously.


	7. Dangerous

Steps up her stairs preceded Solas' voice. _Strange_ , Lavellan thought. He was normally silent. "You are assuredly awake, Inquisitor." Solas said softly as he stepped into her room. Cullen shot him a look, eyes narrowed.

Lavellan heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank the Creators." She said. Cullen looked confused.

So the two explained. Although Lavellan couldn't help but notice the odd tenseness between the mage and the Commander.

The next few hours bore a handful of visitors as well as two different healers to assure that she was alright and not much worse for wear. Those two healers were followed by a Tevinter healer, a personal friend of Dorian's- despite most of her inner circle clearly bristling about it. Finally, after what felt like hours (and likely was), she was left to her own, laying in her bed to finish recuperating.

Voices floated up her stairs.

"Absolutely not, _Templar_." The word was spat like a curse.

"And if she becomes an abomination?"

"She will not. You _must_ have faith in her, especially if you care for her." The disdain in the voice spewed like venom from a Corrupted Spider.

"It doesn't change the fact that she is a Mage and was compromised-" He sounded desperate. It was Cullen, Lavellan was positive of that.

"I would know if she were to be compromised." It was Solas, Lavellan had already realised.

"She should have been a Circle Mage."

Lavellan felt her heart drop, but the men continued, growing more heated and unaware that the woman was even awake.

"No one should be forced to be a Circle Mage. You humans criminalize mages, oppress the elvhen people. You claim you care for her, as you actively plan to control and change her." A bitter laugh rose up the stairs. Lavellan debated for a moment to make her presence known- they obviously thought she was asleep.

But she didn't say a word.

"Mages without anyone helping to control them are a danger. The Dalish do not help with that, with their... lore and less uneasiness of blood magic."

"So every Mage here is a danger?" Solas hissed.

"Every mage. Not just here at Skyhold. They can become abominations at a moment's notice. How many do you think do blood magic and we don't even know of it?" Cullen growled back. "Even within our own ranks."

"Blood magic is not inherently wrong. Nevertheless. Do not try to change her, Templar." It was a warning. After a moment of silencr, she heard Cullen's heavy, armored steps trod up the stairs.

How was she to face him now?

So she pretended to be sleeping, and he soon walked off.

Tomorrow was another day. She would handle it then.


	8. Craving

She awoke the following morning feeling far better than the previous day, physically and mentally. But a pit remained in her stomach as the memory of the conversation between the Commander and the Apostate the night before.

She needed to get Solas first. Before Cullen returned to her room.

Lavellan found him easily- in his room, as usual, standing in front of his wall with a paintbrush in hand. She leaned against the doorway to watch him for a moment. His talent was stunning, and calming.

"Hello, Inquisitor." He greeted, without turning around.

"'Morning, Solas." She replied, unsurprised he knew it was her. "I'd like to talk about the Fade. That... dream."

"You know precisely what it was, Lavellan." Solas' voice was flat, and Lavellan suddenly felt like a puppy being punished.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes in response. "I am fully aware about visiting The Fade in dreams, yes, and I have studied it, also yes. But it felt real- and I've never faced possession... not like that."

"You were not yet possessed."

" _Yet_ is the keyword, Solas." She replied.

"You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. Many cannot even be lured away from the demon that chooses them." Solas turned to her, arms crossed but eyes unexpectedly warm.

"I heard you and Cullen talking last night." She blurted out, then clapped a hand over her mouth. In no way had she meant to say that aloud.

"Ah, the Templar and his want for control?" Solas asked smoothly. Lavellan felt her face burning.

"I am tired of everyone here wanting me to be less Dalish, less of a mage, less elfy." She groaned in frustration, walking over to Solas' desk to perch on it. He looked mildly uncomfortable for a moment before averting his stormy gaze.

"It appears so. I am of the mind that you deserve better than a human Templar, if I may be so blunt."

"I..."

She and Solas weren't best friends or lovers, but they continued to grow close as time passed. He did not consider himself _elvhen_ , not technically, but she felt more in common with him than anyone else.

"You shouldn't reduce yourself to that." He finally said, after a strange silence fell over them.

"To what?"

"Pretending to be who you are not."

"Is it truly reducing myself? When I'm trying to do what's right?"

Solas sighed. "You are trying to fit what the humans and non-mages and nobles want of you. I am not always fond of the Dalish and their misrepresentations of history, but that is irrelevant. You are the Inquisitor. You are Dalish, a Mage, a woman. You do yourself and your people a disservice if you pretend to be what you are not."

"Okay..." Lavellan crossed her arms, voice guarded. He wasn't wrong, but it still made her feel on edge.

"That is enough of that, though. My apologies." He finished. Lavellan watched him closely for a moment, as he stared upwards. "You know, Inquisitor, you have changed my world. Not just mine, but many others' as well. You deserve nothing less than incredible." A small smile played across his lips, and Lavellan returned it, although slightly confused.

"Thank you. I just... maybe I can change their mind. Show them differently..." She mused. Solas stared at her intensely and Lavellan suddenly felt nervous.

But he leaned in and for some reason their lips met.

Then he pulled away with a start. "I should not have done that." He murmured quickly. Lavellan's green eyes were wide, shocked.

"Solas, I-"

"Vhenan." He said softly, eyes clouded.

She sat on her bed after trekking back to her quarters, sunlight streaming in her room with the chilly mountain breeze wafting in.

A scout slithered in nearly silently- she barely heard him. "Message for you, ser." He said. Lavellan tilted her head. "War room, ASAP, please." He reported, saluting. Lavellan nodded and waited until the scout left to get herself dressed and get back to business.

Feelings aside, she was the Inquisitor first. She was Lavellan second.


	9. Confusion

As it turned out, getting back to business was slightly difficult once she saw Cullen. Knowing what she had heard, then seeing him acting normal... it made her blood boil. Nonetheless, Lavellan put on a neutral face as she and her Advisors gathered to discuss what their next step against Corypheus would be.

"So we know the artifact is Elven, and Corypheus has ransacked Elven ruins. Is that all that we know?" Lavellan's arms were crossed as she looked at her Advisors- eyes only resting on Cullen for a moment, a more measured gaze saved for her ambassador and spymaster.

"Yes. I've my people working to find where he plans to go next." Leliana said. "As soon as I know, you shall know." She gave a wry smile and Lavellan nodded in acknowledgement. A few missions were dispatched, and they were done for the time being. She had at least another day at Skyhold.

She rushed out of the war room, bare feet padding against the stone floor as she narrowly avoided Cullen, slipping by him fluidly without a word.

First, Solas.

In his quarters, as always.

"I am sorry, Inquisitor. I should not have done that." He said quietly, as soon as she walked in. After their kiss that morning, she had walked out. The young woman was not sure how to react. So she had left to gather her thoughts.

Lavellan narrowed foresty eyes. "What _gives_ , Solas?" She hissed.

"Any answer I could possibly give you would only complicate matters further."

"Way to evade." Lavellan grumbled. "Solas..."

"I let emotions get in the way of my better judgment. It shall not happen again, Inquisitor." He kept his voice measured and even, and would not meet her eyes.

"So are you so... angry to Cullen because of that?" She asked cautiously. Solas' gaze snapped to her.

"No. I am not fond of him for many reasons. My feelings for you are... separate."

"I had no idea."

He stepped towards her, cupping her face in his palm. She leaned in to the warmth out of reflex, and his thumb trailed across her cheekbone. "It is wrong of me to try to distract you from our goal any further."

"I think I can focus on more than just being Inquisitor." Lavellan snapped. Solas leaned forward and found her lips brushing his softly, almost playfully.

" _Can you_?" He breathed. Lavellan found him pulling away from her, hand falling from her face so suddenly. She just stared back at him, waiting for him to say something. The Inquisitor ended up leaving his room in a silence for the second time today. Neither said a word as she walked out.

Lavellan walked up the stairs to her quarters, spotting a shock of gold hair. Her stomach flipped.

"Inquisitor." Cullen greeted, brows furrowed.

"Commander." She answered, voice far more fierce than she intended. He looked confused.

"Did I... miss something?" He asked.

"Why would you ask that?" Lavellan responded, standing stiffly in front of him. He sighed.

"You heard me and that damned apostate talking, didn't you?"

Lavellan felt herself blush. He was right. She gave a curt nod.

"Lavellan, I-" He paused, growled, rubbed the back of his neck. "I was not thinking. I thought I- we- had lost you. Possession was such a real threat, and I... was wrong. I spoke only from panic." His eyes cast downwards as Lavellan took in his words.

"Did you mean the things you said to Solas?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, purple eyes trained intensely on the shemlen.

"There was a time in my life where my beliefs stood firmIy anti-mage. I am trying not to react with fear to mages. To magic. I'm learning..." Cullen admitted. His face was bright red, voice shaking. " I am... _sorry_ , Lavellan."

She sat next to him on her bed, looking down at her bare (and now dirty) feet. As she turned her head, she felt a pointed ear brush across Cullen's face and hastily apologized. He crept an arm around her shoulder and Lavellan found herself relaxing into his grasp despite the fury she had felt moments ago.

"Cullen. Who I am- I will always be a mage. I'll always be an elf- Dalish. I cannot allow someone who wants to change that which cannot be changed, into my life. I am the Inquisitor... and a mage." She ran a shaking hand through shiny hair.

"I do _not_ want to change that." His response was soft. "I'm sorry that I let that hateful... that... _monster_ resurface. I should have known better. I... I'm sorry."

"The next time you feel I'm compromised, if ever... what will you do?"

Cullen faltered. "I- I don't..." His shoulders sagged. Lavellan stared at the floor. "I... am not sure.." He finally said. Lavellan chewed her lower lip as she studied the human.

"At least you're honest." She said. "But what you need to do is trust I will not be compromised unless you see me become an abomination."

"Lavellan, I'm..." Cullen's voice faltered. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, before nodding his head. "I will... work on it."

She cracked a small smile. "That's all I'm really asking of you right now. That kind of reactive response to the Inquisitor could also do harm to the Inquisition."

 _Creators, must you do this_? _Rifts, darkspawn, demons, Corypheus, the fate of Thedas... and throw in some males, too, because the rest of it wasn't enough._ She cursed internally as butterflies swept through her when she met his gaze. He looked so... earnest.

He leaned closer to her... but right now was not the time. Which was punctuated quite well by pounding footsteps. Both human and elf looked towards her stairs, alarmed, as a Scout came bolting up. He flung her door open so hard it slammed against the stone walls.

"Inquisitor! Commander! Come _now_!"


	10. Madness

A Qunari alliance sounded powerful, politically. Lavellan foolishly assumed the concern- and in some cases, panic- over it was overblown.

All was well until _they_ knew, and rushed, and the Dreadnought exploded. All was well until Bull had to make that damned choice. All was well until the Chargers were losing ground. Bull stood, demeanor calm, even as he had to make a choice between the things most important to him. His people, or his Chargers.

Lavellan screamed out, telling The Iron Bull to call a retreat and save the Chargers.

So he did. He saved them. But he broke his ties to the Qun then and there. Rejected. A _Tal-Vashoth_. What he seemed to dread most became reality, and Lavellan was who tipped the scale for his decision.

He seemed... okay. They all knew he wasn't.

Once the group safely returned to Skyhold, drinking away the troubles was quite the priority. Lavellan gladly joined the Chargers for drinks. Krem sat next to her.

"You're not sitting with Bull?" Asked a barefoot Lavellan, dressed in leggings and a tunic.

"He needs some time." Krem answered. Lavellan nodded. "He'll be okay though, stubborn bastard. Nothing will get him down in the end."

"You and he are so close." Lavellan said.

"Well, he did save me. I may be a dirty Vint but he's a dumb Qunari." Krem ran a hand through his hair but smiled at Lavellan.

"Bull and the Chargers are always welcome and respected here." Lavellan said awkwardly.

"Thanks, Inquisitor." Krem responded, a hint of teasing in his voice. Lavellan rolled her eyes, and they each took a shot. Then another... and one more.

They were laughing together like old friends, drunkenly walking around Skyhold in the night, full moon illuminating most everything. Lavellan found herself at the stable, stroking her Hart, a Tirashan Swiftwind she had named Ghilana. Krem watched while leaning against part of the stable.

"So, what's up with this... courting thing you have going on with the Commander?" Krem asked suddenly. So casually.

"What?" Lavellan was taken aback. Krem laughed heartily.

"The Boss is- was- Ben Hassrath. Picked up by him easily. Shared with me, as usual."

Lavellan cursed, face burning. She should have known.

"Ah, it's not my business. Let's just say, I don't even remember what we were talking about." Krem tried to change the subject for the Inquisitor's sake.

Lavellan nodded, thankful that Krem was going to drop it. The Charger offered a small smile, and Lavellan returned the gesture. A heavy weight thumped on her shoulder, making the young woman instinctively leap up, magic flaring around her hands as she readied to defend herself. She flipped around to face- "Bull!" She exclaimed, the Qunari standing there steadily.

"Boss. Be careful." He said.

"Bull... are you okay?" Lavellan asked. Bull nodded.

"How long've you been listening in?" Krem asked, grinning. The Iron Bull shrugged.

"I'm going to go crash." Bull said, swiftly changing the subject. Krem agreed, rubbing his eyes a bit sleepily. A drunk Lavellan was still fairly confused- but she often was with Bull and his Chargers. Sleep sounded like a lovely idea, as it was. The moon was high in the sky. She was tired. But she didn't want to walk yet, sitting down next to her Hart with only the stable door separating them. And like that, she was lost in her thoughts.

"How many times am I going to find you in these random places, drunk, Inquisitor?"

The sharp voice jerked her out of her thoughts, and as her eyes adjusted, the blonde hair and worried gaze came into focus. "Cullen!" She gasped.

"Do you... need some help?" He offered.

Lavellan nodded, allowing Cullen to help her to her room. Her door shut behind the pair, they trekked the stairs. Cullen kept a firm hand on Lavellan's back to help her keep balance. His touch was _warm_. Or maybe she was cold.

He lead her to her bed and she sat, crossing her legs and smirking. The elf was looking at Cullen in a way he hadn't seen before. Her eyes sparkled, and she beckoned him closer with a slender finger. He stepped forward as if he couldn't control himself and she reached up, threading her slender fingers through his hair- shocked at her own boldness as she pulled the ex-Templar close to her.

Cullen gasped, his face so close to hers. Burning. He was blushing. "Oh, _Maker_." He murmured. "Lavellan, wha- how- why- uh...uhm.. th-this. What do you...um.. Want from me?"

Lavellan had yet to let go, and Cullen didn't try to pull away. "I want you." Lavellan purred. She was buzzed and happy and wanted to be close to him. She wanted to _feel_ him. The Inquisitor leaned back into a laying position slowly, pulling Cullen down with her.

And _Maker_ , Cullen wanted her. Pressed against her lithe body, lips locked passionately, it was... amazing. A light buzz danced across his skin as her fingers ghosted up his arms. The feeling was somehow wonderful, yet uneasily familiar.

 _Magic_.

He jerked away from Lavellan as if she was a nest of wasps.

"I'm.. I'm sorry, I can't, I need..." He trailed off, leaving her room abruptly and with no further elaboration. The shemlen nearly _ran_ from her room. Lavellan was left cold, confused and admittedly... hurt.

The cold of Skyhold at night fit his suddenly bitter mood, anxious jitters taking over his body. The disgust was instinctive. Magic, like _that_? No. Cullen put chilled hands over his eyes, dragging them downward and heaving a massive sigh. He strode to his own quarters, powerful steps, breath leaving clouds in the chilled air as he crossed the doorway into his room.

For a moment, all was silent but the wind.

Then the vase smashed against the wall, the pieces shattering along with the silence. It was followed by thumps of what could only be books. Inkwells. Black ink splashed onto the stone walls. He punched the rough, hard wall so hard his hand was bruised and bloody and the sudden rage and fear continued to rush through him, adrenaline going into overdrive. So much _fear_. _Fear_. _Regret_. _Oh, Maker_ , the _screams. What was he supposed to do?_

Cullen's head was pounding, world spinning, when he finally slouched onto the ground. Staring at the dust and the flecks of glass from throwing things. A shuddered breath, and with eyes watering, he tried to go to sleep, hunched against that cold stone wall.

Those screams haunted him anew.

He was dangerous to mages.

"Oh, _Maker_ , what am I doing?"


	11. Circular

Lavellan was cold and confused.

She returned to her room, bare feet padding on the stone floors of Skyhold as she walked. Frustration and embarrassment bubbled up in her chest, but still she marched straight to her bed.

Sleep was fitful, and she was awake at the crack of down with drowsiness drawn in her violet eyes.

Cullen avoided her. Not only that day, but for a few. He did not show up to War Table meetings. Scouts were sent away quickly. He acknowledged nothing. Lavellan was not the most well-versed in romance by no means, but this stung her.

Lavellan took Solas, Cole and The Iron Bull on a mission to the Emerald Graves, a retrieval of sorts that Fairbank needed. The group trekked through a lush, forest area of the Emerald Graves. It had been oddly silent for days of the trip... but finally, Bull spoke up.

"We're going back to Skyhold sooner or later, Boss. What's the issue?"

"Huh? Nothing." Lavellan answered, maybe a little too quickly. Solas' gaze sharpened.

"Ben Hassrath, Boss. What is it?" He asked.

Lavellan sighed, and Cole suggested they make camp.

The group agreed and obliged.

Over fire roasted ram meat, Lavellan spilled her concerns. She was acutely aware of Solas at her side. "I think I frighten Cullen." The Inquisitor felt almost embarrassed admitting it out loud.

Solas snorted, holding back a laugh. Iron Bull raised a brow. Cole was silent.

"Really. He... was fine until... magic. I'm a mage. It isn't okay to him."

"Well, he was a Templar." Bull offered. "How much do you know about his past, Boss?"

Lavellan opened her mouth but no words came out. Her shoulders slumped as it dawned on her. "Very, very little." She admitted quietly.

"Ask him." Cole said. "There is always much on his mind. Eating at him, no ease in him, extremes everywhere. He is frightened. Fearful. Full of hope but frustrated at failure."

"And don't try to get kinky with magic yet." Bull chortled.

"I did not- that's- _Bull_!" Lavellan protested, and the Qunari laughed.

It grew silent for a moment, and soon after everyone dispersed for bed. Except Solas.

"May we walk?" He asked courteously. Lavellan nodded and followed him from the camp.

"Are you sure you know what you are doing?" Solas asked when the camp was out of sight.

Lavellan glared at the elf. "Do I ever know what I'm doing anymore? Do any of us?" She shot back.

"He is just-"

"A templar and afraid of magic. I get it, Solas. Just... let me figure it out. Then you can gloat if it goes badly."

"Gloat? Absolutely not, I would hate to see you hurt."

"Just- let me handle it, Solas. Let me.. try to follow my heart. It isn't like I ever get that option any longer." With that, she cut off the conversation, turning away and walking back towards their camp. The older elven man sais nothing, but followed her back.

The group headed back to Skyhold two days later.


	12. Regrets

Despite everything, when they returned and Lavellan had a moment to breathe, Cullen pulled her into a hug, crushing her against his body. He sighed with relief, leaving the Inquisitor extremely confused. She had been in her quarters for a short time before he showed up. He looked exhausted, and wore his casual clothes. But seeing him made her stomach flutter.

"Cullen, I-"

"I worry about you, Lavellan." He interrupted. "I'm- I apologize. Magic is... I have..." He couldn't seem to find the words.

"Sit with me?" She offered, patting her bed next to where she already sat. "I wanted to ask you... about... well. Do you want to.. talk about... your past?" The question felt awkward. Cullen looked surprised.

"I, er..."

"No pressure. Just. If you want to." She met his gaze.

Cullen took a deep breath. "The first woman I was in love with was a Mage. Th-the Hero of Ferelden. When she was a Circle mage. I.." He paused, shaky hand snaking through golden hair. "Nothing ever came of it. I could... hardly speak to her. When... the events at the Tower happened.. there were so many abominations and... and... those Maker damned desire demons tortured me. With her. Looking like her." He grimaced, as if in pain.

"Oh, Cullen, I-"

"I watched friends and colleagues die, watched them get slaughtered. I saw mages be possessed. I had to kill people I did care for... Magic caused it all. And I... I couldn't move past it. They moved me to Kirkwall. I... hated mages." His voice was shaking, so he took a long pause. Lavellan stared at him, head tilted to the side a bit.

"Kirkwall ended up with Knight-Captain Meredith going crazy with red lyrium delusions, yes?" Lavellan said.

"Yes. I trusted her. I... I killed for her paranoia and delusions. I thought- that I was doing the right thing. That mages needed to be locked up. I became a monster... After the Tower the Mages felt so dangerous. Became so dangerous. Magic felt... evil. I regret many of my actions. I do not want to be tied to them or that life... but I can't take back the past." The man slumped a bit. "I am... I'm sorry." His voice cracked.

Lavellan was silent for a few moments. It felt like a lifetime to Cullen. "I didn't mean for you to feel any magic, Cullen. I'm sorry." She finally offered, lamely.

"No.. no. I'm sorry for running. I thought of the Tower.. regret... harm... I am sorry. I do not blame you if you can't forgive me." He seemed genuine as they met eyes, his full of grief. "Part of quitting lyrium was to... remove myself from... that life."

A long pause followed, before Cullen spoke again. "I'm sorry, Lavellan." He murmured to the woman. She nodded. His story was unsettling at best. But... people change. Right? Shem couldn't all be the same...

Before she could think, her lips were on his, savoring the taste of him. He responded immediately, pulling her into his lap. It elicited a gasp from Lavellan, and Cullen loved it. "Maker, you're so beautiful."

She pulled back, cupping his face in her hands. "For this to work, I... need you to promise me something."

"Yes- what is it?"

"Work with me about magic. Please?"

Cullen nodded. "I shall. I must."


End file.
